Tuesday, October 18, 2011

I have decided there must be something wrong with me. Not a single boy has ever liked me nor have I ever had a boyfriend. I must have a third ear or nostril that I've never noticed before.

I have never had a boyfriend. There must be something wrong with me. You'd think by age 20, I would have had one. Nope. I'm as single as ever.

An oddball,
Ivy Thorpe

****

My Dear Ivy Thorpe,

Surely, there is nothing wrong with you. In this day and age, spinster-hood is rarely reached. People are both dating earlier and later. You happen to be one of those later-daters. Don't worry, hun. If you do have a third ear, I'm sure your someday-boyfriend will enjoy whispering secrets into it. And if you have a third nostril, you'll be able to enjoy this man's scent all the more.

Never fear. You aren't that strange. I didn't date till I was 25. And people might have considered me a spinster. Anyway, some boys are slower in the whole pursuit of women than others.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

One of my dear nieces eloped three days ago. She and her boyfriend had been going steady for a year or maybe it was two years. We all knew marriage bells were in the future. We just did not realize that it would be elopement.

Apparently, she stumbled upon this information. I suppose we'll have a family party for her once she and her husband return.

is it just me or is it getting hotter in here?
one more friend married.
one more friend engaged.
they're dropping like flies.
(who ever came up with that phrase anyways? why don't we say...they're pairing up like the animals in Noah's ark...they're disappearing like tasty candies...meh. they're dropping like flies)

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

gotta love those good-intentioned-meddlers
who
think that you must want to be married
(any single man of large fortune must be in want of a wife)
after all, marriage is bliss (right?)
so
do you want to come hang out
on Thursday night?
There are a lot of really good guys (and gals, of course)

oh. cool.
i have - um - golf lessons during that time.
but (no) thanks.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

And now, I'm left at a loss of how to interact with the male species. My stellar responses to this man's insult/compliment only validate his claim. Suh-weet. Maybe I'll take up wig modeling since I need good hair to cover up the deadness of my brain.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

I like men, I'll admit. They've got some pretty cool things going for them. Here's a list that I've compiled in honor of some men in my life.

1. Muscles – They’re nice to look at, but I can appreciate them so much better when they’re in action (I like them even better when they’re helping me).

2. A Strong chin – We can only really enjoy this if you actually take the time to shave.

3. Chivalry – I can get the door myself; yet, it’s so much better if you make a point to get it even before I’ve considered the fact that I need to go through that door. This goes for other things, too (“Let me take those heavy bags for you. Oh, they’re not heavy? Let me take them anyway.”)

4. “Wait, that’s your sister?! (you treat her so well that I know that you’d treat your girlfriend even better. Sign me up!)”

5. Intentionality – Choose one girl and pursue her. Don’t go playing with every available heart. Nothing burns like the anger of a woman (or many women).

6. A Man who cries – You get more man points for this because we don’t doubt your manhood. I appreciate a man who can be real.

7. Cleanliness – I love a man who takes care of himself. It shows someone who’s serious about all realms of life. Also, the smell of such a man is real nice. I’ll stand near to him.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Teenagers.
They always think they've found their true love within the first five minutes of setting eyes on a strapping (or should I say scrawny) young man. He walks into the cafeteria abdominal muscles tight and arms bulging. Teenage girl swoons as he walks past. The girl has just fallen in love with his ego.
Beautiful.
Usually, I hate spring. I hate it with all the budding flowers and the cutesy little couples coming out from the wood work. Where did they all come from? The girls staring into the guys' eyes trying to find themselves.Well, guess what, Honey! You won't be finding any of yourself in his eyes! He'll be to busy looking at his own reflection in your eyes. Nothing for you there.

Teenage love. Puke in my mouth. Bane of my Spring and scorn of my winter. They can just go make goo-goo eyes at each other through sunglasses and they can go slobber on each other at Niagara Falls (I think that equates about how much drool occurs).

Of course, if you are some lame-o and you like that kind of cutesy thing, you should probably enter this giveaway for a free copy of Voyance, a teen fiction novel.

Monday, April 11, 2011

I was so excited about the coming Spring weather. Today was our first warm day. I loved it. Like others girls, I chose a skirt from my closet and wore flip flops. Sitting in the greening grass and enjoying the sunshine on my skin made me so happy.

Then, tonight, I went on a walk by myself. I should have known better. Spring nights are for couples. I ran into them everywhere. It seemed as though I couldn't go anywhere without meeting one. I'm sure they didn't really notice me, but I sure saw them.

Aunt Jeanne, singleness sucks.

.....

Dearest Niece,

I hope you still find Spring delightful. I know that I spent the day preparing my garden for the blooming season. One of my daffodils burst its little bright head up. You know, how I love gardening.

Anyways, dear heart, I want to remind you that singleness can be wonderful because it means that many opportunities are open to you. It also means you can flirt with anyone you so desire. Spring nights alone can be just as satisfying as with a significant other. Anyways, I'm sure you know all of this already.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Dear Dr. Jeanne,
Do you have something to kure a brokin hart? I fell in luv with a boy, but he don’t luv me bak. This boy, he luv someone els. Wen I see them together, I feel a emptynes in my chest. How can emptyness hurt? Mine doz. Do you have something four my ake?
Yours truly,
Hayley

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Hello, my dear friends.
I found a note that my niece left under the lamp on my writing table. Perhaps she never meant it to be found. Yet, I like to dust and keep things in order so I did find it. Here, I'll include it.

In my niece's hand:

MyBird,
Somedays I miss you in my life. I know we've never met, but I want to love you. I know that I love you already. Some mornings, I wake and I feel as though you were there holding me. Yet, when I fully wake, I know that you were never with me in my small twin bed. Do you know that loneliness? I hate it, but it is mine for this time.
Love,
YourBird

Now, don't judge me for having shared this note with you. However, it just struck a cord with me. These young girls yearning after love.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

The other day would have been just fine if wasn’t for men. Yes, I was dressed nicely, but not like a slut. Honestly, I was minding my own business and having a nice dinner with my father. So I’m sitting there and I glance at my father and catch a man in the next booth over looking at me. His eyes burned into me. At first, I just looked away hoping that he wasn’t looking at me like a piece of meat. I tried to enjoy the meal.

This man sat with his family. His beautiful wife desperately tried to manage the children while her husband mentally molested another woman (and people wonder why I’m bitter towards men). Sitting there, I felt sick to my stomach. How dare this dork of a human being sit with his family while subjecting another woman to his odious stare.

Sure to be wanted is thrilling, but to be undressed by a man’s eyes while he sits with his family (wife and three kids) is repulsive. Sadly, I didn’t castrate him. All I did was leave the restaurant.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

I do adore a good romance. Currently, you find me in the midst of a delightful book entitled Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz. Since my lovely authoress, Jane Austen, I have not found a romance quite as fulfilling as her works. Miss Austen has a way of working the nuances of romance novels in a way that a modern day author lacks. I suppose the modern author fits the modern audience that wants a quick one night stand. However, for the few of us who treasure the true budding romance, Quo Vadis is exactly that.

Mr. Sienkiewicz develops his characters slowly in a way that imitates a cat stretching after a long delicious nap in the sunshine. His description of setting is luscious. Each word crafted into the paragraph chosen for quality and fit. Although I love his writing style, it is the way in which Mr. Sienkiewicz develops his romance that enthralls me. Every moment is painstakingly puzzled together. Mr. Sienkiewicz spares no expense of thought to better create a story that is eloquently told.

This is the type of romance that I live for, dear friends. A romance that buds slowly when no one is looking entrances those who suddenly turn to see a goblet over-flowing with sweet water. In stretching the mind to recall the exact moment when this love started dripping into the cup, no one can recall. However, the more gradual the love, the more brilliant it is. Gradual love is rooted in the depths of the soul that none can see.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

You want a guy? You need focus. Know what you want. Get what you crave. The rules are simple. Follow them and get the guy. Happy hunting, ladies! World, here comes the control freaks

Prowl around your work area, favorite restaurants, and/or coffee shops. If you have a favorite hobby, check out the single men in that venue. For example, if a woman loves reading, she will sit in a corner with her favorite book - not turning a page – in search of the one. Of course, finding one in the midst of the possible male attractions might be difficult so she’d better watch her expectations especially if she forgets which is reality…the book or the bookstore. With careful precision, this woman spots a man with good physique and a good taste in books. She stalks him with her eyes.

Once the man has been spotted, the time has come for some subtle aka hardcore flirting action. It’s imperative that the woman catches the man’s eye. Some may suggest wearing colorfully revealing clothes, slowly insinuating yourself into his group of friends, and talking to him at every chance that you get. Be a more exaggerated version of yourself obnoxious – strike 1. Make sure that you cuddle up to him every chance that you can needy – strike 2. Play with your hair while coyly glancing at him old school – strike 3 – you’re out.

Now, the man is obtainable. Be sweet and demure. However, allow him times to chase you. A guy likes to be able to woo a woman. Be chase-able. This doesn’t mean that you don’t have any control of the situation. Remember, you are the prize. Therefore, show the guy that you find him attractive, but make sure that you allow him to lead the chase as much as possible. Don’t call him, but entice him to call you. Be hard to get and never gotten.

Good, he has no reason to marry you. So if he does marry you, he must love you or you’re one heck of a manipulative control freak.

Ladies, this is the way to snag a man. Sleep with the guy, and pull him along. Bat your eyelashes and play coy. Snagging men will become like second nature to you. To all your girlfriends, do not forget to call these men your “boy toys.”

Monday, February 14, 2011

I know I can't take one more step towards youCause all that's waiting is regretAnd don't you know I'm not your ghost anymoreYou lost the love I loved the most

I learned to live half aliveAnd now you want me one more time

And who do you think you areRunning 'round leaving scarsCollecting your jar of heartsAnd tearing love apartYou're gonna catch a coldFrom the ice inside your soulSo don't come back for meWho do you think you are

I hear you're asking all aroundIf I am anywhere to be foundBut I have grown too strongTo ever fall back in your arms

And learn to live half aliveAnd now you want me one more time

And who do you think you areRunning 'round leaving scarsCollecting your jar of heartsAnd tearing love apartYou're gonna catch a coldFrom the ice inside your soulSo don't come back for meWho do you think you areDear, it took so long just to feel alrightRemember how to put back the light in my eyesI wish I had missed the first time that we kissedCause you broke all your promisesAnd now you're backYou don't get to get me back

And who do you think you areRunning 'round leaving scarsCollecting your jar of heartsAnd tearing love apartYou're gonna catch a coldFrom the ice inside your soulSo don't come back for meDon't come back at all

And who do you think you areRunning 'round leaving scarsCollecting your jar of heartsAnd tearing love apartYou're gonna catch a coldFrom the ice inside your soulDon't come back for meDon't come back at all

Who do you think you are?Who do you think you are?Who do you think you are?

More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/c/christina_perri/#share

Valentine's Day is a bitter day for those of us who only see ourselves as alone - for those of us who feel that our hearts have been stolen away - for those of us who feel broken or unsatisfied - for those of us who have risked love again and again and still come up short.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Honestly, what kind of world do we live in. You walk through a college campus and not one person acknowledges your presence. Oh, yeah, it's good to be alive today - not. It's as though I am completely invisible. No one sees me unless they want to. I want to be seen all the time!What kind of world is this? Self-focused. Little children do not belong in places of death. Hey, did you here that? You kill a child even by accident and I'm thinking you should probably just go jump off a cliff. Okay, maybe not. You probably already feel like poop from a donkey's butt. Why is it all right for people to ignore others who are obviously having problems? Guys ignore other guys that are dealing with issues. It's like they have some sort of disease and it's catching. HARDLY! Girls avoid girls who seem to be a little off - a little too emotional - a little too needy. What the F? Insensitivity.What happens when you become that person? Will anyone see you? Hope away. Of course, this is all hypothetical so it's not real, right? Well, what happens what hypothetical meets reality?You'll be alone.You didn't take a moment to see anyone else.

In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will dieWhere you invest your love, you invest your lifeIn these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will dieWhere you invest your love, you invest your life

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

I have never met a shoe that I did not like. However, I have found shoes that do not like me. A couple months ago, I fell in love with a pair of black ankle boots. They were modern with flair of old fashion buttons. It was shoe love at first trying on. When I put them on, I felt city smart and gorgeous. Not only were they comfortable, they alluringly whispered class and sophistication. In my head, I saw myself in many outfits and places in these boots. My mom saw the love in my eyes and recalled the coming of the holidays and my birthday. My mother bought the boots.

For weeks of months, I thought of these dreamy shoes. I knew that when I would wear them I would be able to walk on water or at least snow. Finally, the shoes were given to me. When I brought them home, my roommates were as excited as me. They cooed over them and I grinned from ear to ear.

To me, these cute boots were exactly perfect for winter wear. The salt wouldn’t ruin them immediately like velvet shoes and my feet wouldn’t be so exposed to the snow. Although they have heels, they are particularly easy in which to walk. My first wearing of these lovely boots went smoothly. I knew that I had a nice pair of shoes going on. Thankfully, I was not particularly vain about these boots and I walked carefully. Never did I make eye contact with any attractive young man.

My second outing in these boots, I was much more confident in my looks and walking. I had a couple mishaps, but no noticeable close calls. My third outing was not so lucky. After attending a dance performance in sweet boots and dark lipstick, my friends and I returned to a small deli. As I confidently clicked across the floor feeling like a fox, my foot hit a wet patch as I made eye contact with a guy. My ankle turned and I scrambled to catch my balance.

To my chagrin, the guy told me to be more careful.

Laughing with embarrassment, I said, “Oh, you saw that?” I kept laughing and spun away trying to rejoin my friends.

The guy responded, “I didn’t see it if you don’t want me to.”

I just laughed and exited into the bathroom. I was sufficiently embarrassed.

More recently, my roommate and I went to a local mini grocery store. Clad in my delectable boots, I felt posh and sophisticated. Somewhere in the frozen dinner aisle, a male worker restocked the freezers. As I walked, I made eye contact with the man and we exchanged pleasant greetings. Just as we finished the greetings, my ankle twisted. Barely did I keep myself from tumbling to the guy’s feet. Finally, I steadied myself. With embarrassed laughter, I croaked out that I was fine and stumbled to my roommate. My ankle was quite sprained, but I managed to walk on it.

My ankle boots have it in for me. If I as much as look at a man, I end up stumbling. I suppose that I am much more susceptible to pride or to attractive men than I thought. My shoes have a mantra of attractive men cometh before fall. My lovely little boots want to keep me humble. Obviously, I have both a pride and vanity issue or maybe a shoe problem.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

I will waste my life I'll be tested and triedWith no regrets inside of me to find I'm at Your feet

I'll leave my father's house and I'll leave my motherI'll leave all I have known and I'll have no other

I am in love with You There is no costI am in love with You There is no lossI am in love with You I want to take Your nameI am in love with You I want to cling to You JesusJust let me cling to You Jesus

I'll say goodbye to my father my motherI'll turn my back on every other love andI'll press on yes I'll press on

Sunday, January 23, 2011

My brain is one of those places that holds prisons of terror deep within. There are times where even I the owner of this castle of light and dungeons of dark do not dare to enter. To my friends, I joke that solitude is all I want in life. I want go deep into a forest and live in a pale yellow cabin that is one room. There I would live and write. No one would know me. I would know no one. In my head, it was a dreamy place where magic happened. It was a place where a man would be drawn to because it held me hiding amongst the greenery. He would come and he would love me. During the day, he’d catch me repainting my pale yellow paint to my cheery little cabin while my large dog romped behind me. The picture was perfect in my head. I would live in this dreamy paradise until love found me.

Naïve should be my name. I forgot the horrors that slither through my mind. When left for hours on end alone, my mind begins creaking and groaning. It shares angry lies and it whispers untruths like there is no tomorrow. Before long, my little cheery cabin becomes a place of nightmares where nothing can save me. I am locked within the prison of my mind and there is no key. No prince charming can come and unlock this self-made prison. No fairy god mother will have mercy on this girl that outwardly is perfectly normal and fine. It’s all a façade. I may be pretty, nice, laughing. Yet, does anyone care to see the flowing animosity that my mind seems to have for me. It wants me dead. It keeps me alive only to use me.

My mind is ingenuous. It sees things that I don’t. It catches onto people’s feelings and beliefs. In those quiet desperate moments, it latches on to these people. It whispers to me, “Those are the weak ones. You see them. Go to them. Be sweet. Be kind. Listen. Remember that you are the strong one. Feed off of their weakness.” While they, these weaklings, cry tears of sadness and vulnerability, I – in my castle of perfection – chuckle to myself to see this agony. Their weakness imbues strength into me. While they pour out their sorry hearts, I sit back with a kind compassionate even loving face and listen. It is wonderful that the Great Being Who Is did not permit us humans to read minds. My face may say compassion and care. Inside, I am anything but caring.

“Aw, you poor baby. That boy dropped you? No wonder. Do you see the dandruff in your hair? Oh, and, honey, people say that guys like thin sticks for wives, but let me tell you. I know. I know that men like a little somethin’ extra on their women. You don’t stand a chance. Quit whining to me, child. Those tears that you think are oh-so-vulnerable-and-endearing? They make your face blotchy, your eyes swell up, and the snot glistening in your nostril just screams ‘kiss me now.’ You want some advice, baby child? Walk away and don’t give him another minute. He’s not worth it. Of course, your weakness right now is so completely enthralling. I just can’t tear my eyes away from your little sniffling heart. You think I care. Let me tell you something. I don’t. So go wipe your mascara on some other pitiful human being.”

Women have come up to me and told me things like, “You’d have a chance, dear, if you’d just drop a couple of pounds.” I smile and whimper. I agree with them. And then, I think to myself, “I get laid more than a newlywed skinny mini so get off it, Miss Granny Panties.” I’ve had others inform me that I’m far too bitter to ever meet a man and keep him. I say, “To hell with it. A man is only good for keeping the bed warm anyways.” Women smile at me and say these patronizing phrases, “I can hardly wait until your prince charming comes along.” You know, I truly wish that these women would just stick a dick in it. They are all so high and mighty thinking that they know what is best. After all, a young single woman must be in want of a husband. The last thing I want is some fanciful little fairy prince who tries to woo me with sweet little nothings. If he wants a real woman, then he’d better make like a man otherwise I don’t want him.

Call me what you want, you self-righteous world. Yes, I am a bitter old hag. Oh, wait. I’m twenty hardly a hag in age at least. What a sweet relief. Now that I’ve spilled my mind to you, why don’t you go drown yourself or better yet stop bugging me about men. Last time, I looked I couldn’t find any.